


Wanderlust

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: Lucius developes a crush on a witch he rather shouldn't, Hermione Granger.





	

June 2003  
“Lucius, my boy, not even fifty and already suffering from senile insomnia?” The wizard in the portrait irritated him, even more so the slightly younger one (who had died sometime in the 1460s) in the painting to his left. 

“It’s not that he can’t sleep, dear great-grandfather! His wife, the beautiful Narcissa, simply doesn’t give him the opportunity to exhaust himself with her anymore -or so Auriga told me, who is residing next to their sleeping chamber. Says there weren’t sounds of fornification heard from it for some time now.” 

Lucius ignored his ancestors’ quips decidedly. Oh, how he’d ban Auriga to the dungeons, the old gossip! There wouldn’t be much to talk about there, as those were rarely ever frequented these days. But the crucial truth pained him like Brute’s dagger in Julius’ back: They were right. Narcissa and him -they hadn’t engaged in their marital obligations anymore. His… appendage wasn’t as cooperative as it had been all the years before. And by Salazar, had they put it into use. 

Before the war, the second one, no alcove or surface in Malfoy Manor had been safe of them. However, now, five years after he had stood his trial and was sentenced to house arrest for three years, the fire that had once burned between them had, slowly, extinguished. The last time he had sunk his impressive cock into his wife’s delicious wetness was- Christmas, no, his birthday in November. It was June now. 

While, normally, he released his stress in the bed, Lucius became more and more restless now; and that resulted in him wandering the barely lit corridors of his ancient family home. Like always on these strolls, he briefly thought maybe his own hands could help him where Narcissa was so prude. With a snort to himself, he put the thought away. He wasn’t that desperate now, was he?

When he saw a light shining through the library’s doors, he opened them, expecting his son to read in his favourite armchair by the fire - however, he was mistaken. Lucius stopped dead in his tracks, his bare feet coming to a soundless halt on the shiny mahogany floor. 

He blinked, unbelieving, once, twice- no, she still was there! Next to his son, so close in fact that her brown curls caressed his arm, sat Hermione Granger. 

A slight shake of his head to clear his thoughts - nope, still there. The witch and Draco were both bend over a heavy tome on a desk, lost to the world around them.  
Then, the brunette started talking quietly into the night’s silence. “Here, Malfoy, this obviously contradicts Amelia Peabody’s theory on the tomb of Tutankhamun…” 

Lucius could hear the sound of a finger scraping over old parchment. Just when he wanted to open his mouth to say something (though, he didn’t know what exactly), Draco lifted his head. His grey eyes, the same shade as his father’s, widened slightly at the sight of the Malfoy patriarch traipsing through the library. With a subtle tilt of his head to the woman beside him, the young men refrained him from speaking. 

“Do you listen to me at all, ferret?” her voice was not insulting, simply, curious.

“Of course, Granger. You explained she was probably right in her assumption that he didn’t die in a chariot accident,” Draco answered, his eyes never leaving his father’s, making it known he was to leave. Immediately.

Lucius didn’t know what made him turn around silently and leave the book-filled room to the younger people- the hopeful expression in his son’s face or his own sudden tiredness. Either ways, he returned to his empty bed, for Narcissa had months ago given up their marriage bed for the adjourned Lady’s room.

 

The next morning

“Draco, dear, you seem awfully quiet this morning. Didn’t you sleep well?” Narcissa asked their son, who yawned for the twenty-seventh time (Lucius counted them) at the breakfast table.

“Oh, I slept well enough, but I was up studying late and had much on my mind therefore.”

Lucius gave a snort at that. No, Malfoys didn’t snort. It was more of an distinguished cough. However, the sound made Draco’s head turn sharply into his father’s direction. Unbidden, he answered Draco’s non-verbal question. “I’m not sure what you did can be fully qualified as studying.”

“What do you imply?” His wife glanced over to him, her blue eyes shining curiously.

“I don’t imply. I observed myself that Draco was sitting very close to a mud-, excuse me, muggleborn witch in our library. Far past midnight, I might add.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the hidden meaning. “Before you ask, Mother, it was Hermione Granger. And, yes, we were simply studying. The Minister has assigned us on a case together. She’s working for the Auror Department.”

“She’s an Auror?” Narcissa digged deeper. Pah, no young pure-blooded would have lowered herself to work with criminals, or work at all in the case of the elite Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Draco’s jaw clenched a bit. “No, she isn’t. She’s responsible for the identification and control of dangerous magical objects.”

For a millisecond, an image of a small box in the family vault, harbouring a blue and dangerous piece of witchcraft, flashed through Lucius’ mind. 

“Oh. Well, I suppose she has to earn her galleons somewhere, doesn’t she?” Narcissa commented dryly. When their son had voiced his intentions to actually work to restore the family name, both parents had been shocked and annoyed, because such a commoner’s position as a curse breaker for the Ministry was something unheard of in the Malfoys’ history. 

“I simply hope, for the peace of my sinner’s soul, your relation remains strictly professional.” Lucius saw no need to explain himself further, as Draco’s fingers gripped his knife tighter. His son knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Lucius, really now. Our son knows his ways with the necessary charms, and I’m convinced he doesn’t want to marry that girl.” While ,for his wife, the conversation was ended with that, Lucius could see Draco’s very slight blush- and instantly felt a shiver going down his spine. As if someone was stomping on his ancestor’s graves.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Halloween 2003  
“Son, where are you going tonight? We’ve invited some friends over.” He encountered his son some steps away from the travelling room, realising he was wearing formal dress robes.

“Well, Father, as I’ve told you, as a ministry worker it is my duty to attend to the Halloween dinner. I’ll be leaving in an hour, but before, I wanted to look over some interesting texts in our library.” Apparently, Draco was in a rush, as he was glancing at the floo entrance nervously.

“But the library is in the other direction.” Lucius remarked, sarcastically. “Or are you meeting with a lovely lady before you head to the Ministry together? To-” he lowered his voice despite it was just him and Draco in this wing of the Manor, Narcissa preparing for the evening, “release some energies to endure those imbeciles a bit easier?” 

Salazar, it’d almost been a year since he and Narcissa had a roll between the sheets. And he couldn’t even explain why. He had tried to charm her (new diamond necklace), to seduce her (new underwear for him, a muggle invention called boxers he found himself quite sexy in), to threaten her (new curses he got rid of after a discreet visit at the private Healer). Nothing worked. He even tried… hand-helped assistance to reach his completion, to no avail. 

“I am indeed waiting for a lady, but I want to show her something in the library.”

Before he could react on his son’s words, the fireplace spit out a woman’s body. A woman clad in a dashing violet dress. Entirely per incidence, his eyes landed on her ample cleavage, not her face. Oh, how beautiful those breasts were; they looked soft, and pert, and perfectly fitting into one of his hands… and belonged to Hermione Granger as he realised when he lifted his gaze into the witch’s face. The woman donned her hair up with some soft brown curls escaping and falling down on the skin at her neck. Beneath the neck came the elegantly curved collarbone, and further down, her-

“Mr. Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet you again. How are you?” 

Lucius hadn’t paid attention and was surprised by the fact that Miss Granger stood right in front of him now. Automatically, his upbringing kicked in and he reached for her hand. Bowing down, his eyes fell on the luscious rounds again. It surely wasn’t decent to show them off like this! When he straightened himself up from the hand kiss, she greeted his son with a hug. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, the younger man glared at him condescendingly, clearly mistaking Lucius’ behaviour as rejection.

“I’m well, Miss Granger. Draco just told me you are visiting the Halloween dinner at the Ministry together?”

She blushed adoringly at that. And Lucius was tempted to call for a Healer: It wasn’t normal what he was feeling right now. 

“Yes, we do. But he wanted to show me something in the library first.” She turned her body in the estimated direction of said room, and, as she did so, the candlelight reflected on her neckline.

No, this tingle he felt below his belt was certainly a symptom of a cold.

“Well, then, enjoy your evening.” With a curt nod, he excused himself from the younger pair. He spotted his son’s eyes glued on the very same surface as he turned to leave, hearing Miss Granger’s whisper, “Do you think this dress is appropriate for the evening, Draco? Your father was looking at me so strangely.” 

Heading right, Lucius didn’t get his son’s answer. He needed a generous amount of firewhiskey now. To burn this ill-feeling sensations out before the guests arrived.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo  
January 2004

The next time Lucius saw Hermione Granger was when he could observe her and Draco engaging in a juvenile snow ball fight. Looking down to the manor’s garden from the window in his study, he could make them out laughing, ducking and throwing snowballs at each other. Dressed in a heavy winter cloak and mittens, the witch’s hair cascaded down on her back, her cheeks were pink from the cold, and even from the distance, one could see her eyes sparkling of joy. She really was beautiful… Lucius shook his head violently to clear it from those thoughts. It was a woman that wasn’t his wife he was thinking of, Narcissa would surely have his balls for that!

He went to step back from the window, even started to move, when he observed Draco running towards the witch from behind, and closing his arms around her. Squealing, she turned around, only to have her lips captured in a passionate kiss.

Lucius felt anger rising in him. Surely, the mud- the muggleborn’s name was mentioned by his son from time to time, but this? It became quite apparent that this wasn’t their first kiss when they stayed embraced afterwards, their noses rubbing against each other affectionately. A part of Lucius’ heart recognised he hadn’t seen his son this happy for a very long time.   
Did Narcissa know of this- whatever it was? If she was informed, she most certainly didn’t approve of it. He left his study in a hurry. First, he had to find his wife, then, he had to find himself a strong beverage. The tingle in his loins had reappeared. Maybe there was something wrong with his lower blood vessels?

Two hours later  
His hands closed around the glass, Lucius spilled half the highly potent content when he collided with Draco in the hallway.

“Draco…!” Why was he only clad in a towel, and his platinum blond hair damp?

“Sorry, Father, I think I forgot my wand in my bedroom and wanted to retrieve it quickly.” He sounded very embarrassed. Before Lucius could ask why he didn’t call for a house-elves’ help, the bathroom door opened again, revealing a wet and equally clad Miss Granger. 

“Draco, your wand was next to the sink- oh!” She stopped dead in mid-move, causing her towel to ride up her thigh. Blushed from head to toe, Miss Granger’s outfit evoked unholy thoughts in Lucius. Did she wear knickers under the towel? How would she react if he tugged at the fabric? Did she taste as delicious as she looked? His musings were interrupted by Draco, who ushered the witch back into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, his son turned towards him, grey orbs shining dangerously. 

“Before you say something: I don’t care what you or our holy pureblood ancestors might think, Father. She makes me happy, and I’m with her as long as she will have me.” Strangely, Narcissa had told him roughly the same when he had informed her about his - in his wife’s opinion- obvious observations concerning Draco and Miss Granger. Shutting the door with a decisive slam, the Malfoy scion left him standing in the dimly lit hallway, the merely half-filled glass still in his hand- and, to his utter dismay, with a prominent erection beneath his robes.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo  
March 2004

“When will your son learn his lesson?” 

Lucius gripped his cigar in one and his whiskey in the other tighter upon Jeffery Greengrass’ words.“Which lesson?” the Malfoy patriarch spoke, his voice as controlled as to be expected, especially in a public event like this one with his acquaintances around him.

“That it’s bad manners to parade around with one’s mudblood mistress.” The other wizard gestured over to the dancefloor, where Draco and Miss Granger were spinning in graceful circles. “I can’t believe you’ve allowed him to go public. She must be very talented in helping him with his carnal needs, otherwise Draco would be level-headed enough to choose a decent, pureblood wife.”

Lucius wanted to strangle the man, Azkaban or not (at least, they didn’t have Dementors anymore). He wasn’t only insulting his son, but also the witch next to him. Who, Lucius had to admit, carried himself with a grace he was surprised of and still looked delicious. In the past months, when the brown-haired witches visits at Malfoy Manor had dramatically increased in frequency, Lucius came to terms with the fact that he had a slight… infatuation with the young woman. He couldn’t help but notice that whenever he felt certain urges, it was Miss Granger’s silhouette, and not Narcissa’s, that burned in his brain and loins. At the same time, he was too proud to give into those urges - he was sure his family jewels would suffer serious damage at some point. Pulling himself back to the present, Lucius’s straightened his posture into one of regal supremacy -something he could do in his sleep.

“A decent pureblood wife? And, surely, he’d find one in one of your sweet daughters, wouldn’t he?” He raised one of his pale eyebrows and pierced his grey eyes into the other wizard’s.

“Daphne and Astoria would be more than perfect for the role as the new Mrs. Malfoy and very proud to birth Draco an heir. I think Astoria, especially, would be a shining star at his side.”

After a short moment of shock in which Lucius realised that there existed the low chance that his grandchildren wouldn’t be purebloods, he replied, the sarcasm in his drawl unconcealed, “I don’t doubt that your girls play the role perfectly, dull and shallow as they are.” Greengrass gasped in surprise, but he wasn’t finished. “Jeffrey, what you seem to forget: Miss Granger is no simple mudblood -not in the eyes of the broad wizarding society. In contrast to your untalented girls, she has a shiny reputation that comes with being a pretty and intelligent witch with powers who helped bringing down the Dark Lord.” He didn’t even have to lie, he simply used the truth at his expense as every good Slytherin did.

“And, tell me, are Astoria and Daphne part of the Golden Trio? No? You see, Miss Granger is. And that grants an influence with the Ministry different from our own. I hope I make my point clear: Hermione Granger means power, which, combined with Draco’s own reputation, is a force that blends wonderfully with the Malfoy name.” With a move he had copied from a deceased friend of his, Lucius turned with a swift move, his expensive dress robes billowing around him. 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo  
July 2004

The heat was killing him. One would think that the thick stone walls and the magical wards would keep the smouldering summer temperatures outside, but that wasn’t the case. Or, Lucius wondered darkly, Hell was coming to get finally him and started by making him acquainted with the warmth. 

He wandered around the manor again, frustrated to no end. He settled for begging with Narcissa this time. To his surprise, it had worked: They had kissed intensely, his fingers opening the sash of her silken robe. Oh, that had felt good…

But, when she had graciously lowered his briefs (made from Egyptian cotton), knelt down at his feet, her blue eyes shining up at him with lust, and her soft lips had closed around his member….nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing. His cock had remained flaccid like a dead snake. 

After a minute that felt like an hour, Narcissa had left the bedroom frustrated, muttering something about a ‘vibrator’. He had to ask Draco about that, perhaps a newly invented spell? 

As he stood there, pants down, he felt like defeated, like nothing worked in his favour these days, not even his own body. He tried to sleep, but it was simply too hot, and that was why he was wandering, again. Maybe there was a stock of Dreamless Sleep potion in his study? He he could drown it with a nice, old brandy. 

Wait, were those sounds? Lucius remained still for a moment and listened into the quiet of the manor. And then, he heard it again.

Moans.  
Female moans.  
Coming from the direction of Draco’s room.

He really shouldn’t. 

But his feet didn’t listen to his brain (or maybe, his conscience?-stranger things had happened) anymore. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the heavy wooden door, behind which his son had his rooms. 

And it was left ajar, the moans escaping it even louder now.

He would simply close it, wouldn’t he?

His hand at the handle, and against his better knowledge, he risked a peek inside…

For the sake of the Founders, that was an erotic sight! Miss Granger lay on Draco’s bed, stark naked. Her head was thrown back in bliss, her lush curls spread around it, and her back arched from the mattress, causing her full breasts to stand out even more. But her hands weren’t gripping into the sheets, as Narcissa used to do, instead they were tweaking her nipples. The reason for her ecstasy was easy to make out: Draco had his head buried between her legs, moving around restlessly, his arms stilling her grinding hips. 

Lucius pulled back, not even closing the door as previously intended, but turning to his own room. Then he noticed something that caused him awe and shock at the same time: He was panting heavily, his heart beating in his ears- and he was rock-hard downstairs.

The image of his son’s witch still burning through his thoughts, he decided he was in desperate need of a shower - a very cold, very long one.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo  
Christmas 2004

Lucius managed to avoid encounters with Hermione (as she insisted to be called by him and Narcissa) with the exception of two unfortunate incidents; the first being her birthday in September, where they had been invited to dinner in a restaurant in Diagon Alley. He had even managed to avoid her muggle parents by simply staring into thin air (Narcissa hadn’t been amused by that). The second being Narcissa’s birthday in October; fortunately he had been down with the flu then and only showed up for a toast to his beautiful wife (or maybe he had only dreamed that, he was quite feverish back then).

But now, on Christmas, he somehow had been tricked in partaking in dinner and exchanging presents with Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione.

How he had gained the courage to get her a present on his own, he didn’t know, but she was unwrapping it, currently.

“Oh!” The witch squealed. “Draco, look! Your father got me the first edition if ‘Most Potente Potions’!” 

His son’s eyes gleamed in amusement, he was probably the one person in the world who really understood her thirst for knowledge and books. Though, Lucius hadn’t calculated with the brunette’s next move: She got up from the floor in front of the giant Christmas tree and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Patting her back awkwardly, he noticed several things: Draco was smiling mischievously at his father’s helplessness, Hermione’s hair smelled like lavender and promises, -and Narcissa squinted her eyes suspiciously, perhaps noticing the heat rising in his cheeks. The horror lasted two seconds, then it was over when Draco cleared his throat to get Hermione’s attention.

The Malfoy heir produced a small green box from his trousers’ pockets. Narcissa had positioned herself next to Lucius, her hands involuntarily grasping his arm in excitement. She seemed to know what was happening…

Oh, no, now his son was going down on one knee, taking Hermione’s hand into one of his, opening the box with the other! A short view of the sparkling ring inside it that reflected the candlelights confirmed what he already dreaded: Draco was going to propose!

The next minutes happened in a haze. All he could remember of them afterwards, when his wife had placed him in the armchair by the fireplace, his fourth, or maybe fifth firewhiskey in his hand, were the words ‘love’, ‘eternity’, and ‘marriage’ from Draco’s lips, and a whispered, but convinced ‘yes’ from Hermione’s. Had he congratulated them? He couldn’t remember. His wife, however, had chastised him to ‘get his act together’ and to embrace the future, even if that meant Draco was marrying a muggleborn. After the darkness of the past years, this marriage could bring their family the light they all longed for, she said.

He started to believe that Narcissa was right. 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

May 2005

The end was near.  
Well, at least the end of the purity of the the Malfoy line, because today was the day Lucius would see his son getting married to Hermione Granger. Of course, the ceremony with the following reception was held at Malfoy Manor. 

When the bride floated along the aisle in her wedding gown (too muggle for Lucius’ taste), made of ivory silk, the Malfoy patriarch felt his heart (slightly surprised he still had one) soar. She really was a beauty, the family-tiara (emeralds) sparkling from her head and Grandmother Malfoy’s necklace (emeralds, too) highlighting her low neckline. However, Hermione had no eyes for the audience. She was only looking at Draco, who waited next to the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He held the ceremony, giving the whole thing the necessary legal force. But, judging from their gazes’ deepness, Draco and Hermione were alone in the manor’s blooming gardens.  
Lucius remembered the day he married Narcissa Black like it was yesterday, she had been his beacon of light the moment she became his wife and everyday afterwards. He regretted many things he did, in his private life and in public, especially when it came to his decision whom to follow and to despise. He even was blind and power-hungry enough to make the same mistake twice.   
But now, when he saw his son binding himself legally and magically to an intelligent, loyal, and beautiful muggleborn witch, his voice full of love and devotion - Lucius realised he hadn’t failed in everything.  
A sniff next to him interrupted his musings, and he turned his head to really look at Narcissa for the first time in what felt like years: Her ice-blue eyes, which so easily betrayed her emotions when one knew her, shone with happy tears. Her blonde hair (he didn’t want to know if she dyed it or not) was glistening in the warm sunlight; and her body- sweet Salazar!- her body was still breathtaking in his eyes. And she had chosen the perfect dress to accentuate it: Ironically, it was deep red, left her shoulders bare and had a tight bodice, flaring out to the floor, only allowing glimpses at her equally red peep-toes (shoes her future daughter-in-law had introduced her to). The upper seam of her breasts was visible, still pert and soft at the same time.   
Taking his wife in, Lucius felt like awakening from a deep, drug-induced sleep: Why was he bathing in his childish crush on a certain brunette, when the love of his life was standing directly next to him?

Later that evening

Lucius danced with Hermione, as was his duty as father-in-law. And it was - nice.  
He checked his heartbeat and the status of his member several times, but- nothing happened. Though, he still thought her pretty and intelligent, and most certainly the shiniest witch in the room, it was nothing compared to what he felt when he invited Narcissa to dance.

“May I, Milady?” He bowed and kissed her hand, eliciting a playful smile from her.

“I was wondering when you handsome wizard would ask me.”   
He led her over to the dancefloor and closed his hand around hers, while he rested the other on her waist. 

“You are the most beautiful woman in this room tonight, Narcissa. As everyday.” He spoke lowly to her.

“Oh, you noticed?” His wife managed to lace a layer of hurt into her otherwise ironic voice. Lucius had the decency to blush ashamed at her words.

“I haven’t been myself the past months, I realise now. I am sorry, love.” Grey eyes met blues in a moment of truth. “Can you forgive me -one more time?”

“The question is, can you forgive yourself?” Her words struck a chord in him, and he knew she was right. Lucius was well aware that Narcissa wasn’t referring to his infatuation with Hermione (she undoubtedly had taken notice of), but to his past actions that threatened his family and shook it to the core. 

“I don’t know, Cissy, honestly. But when I see our son, so alive and loving, despite what I have done to him...I remember a time when I was like this. And you were, you still are, the person in my life that has my heart, without you, nothing makes sense to me.” To, finally, speak those thoughts that had darkened his soul for so long lifted a heavy burden from him. Impulsively, he pulled Narcissa in for a tight hug, and whispered into her ear, “I love you. Do you still love me?” 

Not a second later, his wife answered, “Of course, Lu. Never stopped.”

Lucius felt a smile creeping up to his his face, even after he heard this stupid, long-forgotten nickname again. Remembering they were in public, they pulled away from each other, and the wizard spotted a smirk on his wife’s lips. 

“I remember those past days very well, dear husband. And shall I remind you what we did, more often than not, to escape gatherings like this?”

Oh, he knew exactly. Almost impatiently, and as fast as possible while at a party in their own house, Lucius grabbed Narcissa’s hand and escaped with her. Some guests could hear the Lady of the Manor giggling like a teenage girl when she followed her husband to their private rooms.  
Two hours later, before they descended to the gardens again (after all, it was their son’s wedding), spent and utterly satisfied, Lucius turned to Narcissa and spoke loudly, grinning, “Cissy, dear, I accidentally forgot the silencing spells. The portraits undoubtedly were witnesses to the sounds of our fornification.”

Narcissa laughed at that, noticing his humoured tone. “Let them gossip, Lu. They’re just jealous.”


End file.
